Conception of a Rose

There are those who know things that we'll never know.
At conception, they were already a thousand years old.
They spoke barbed truths in the wisdom of a whisper.
All of their humble predictions came to divine fruition.
When they leave us, a star becomes dusted with gold.
Leaving behind both the sweet bramble and salty rose.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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